Please
by Commander Zia
Summary: Obito hated how Kakashi kept saying his name, like that of an old friend, as if he actually knew him... Based loosely upon the WWI verse. Slight KakaObi.


_**A/N:**__ Was reading through White Wall Irony (While you don't have to, reading that may help you understand this fic) when it occurred to me that, you know, maybe all the years in the mental institution would actually _deteriorate_ Kakashi's mental health. He'd get desperate, depressed- six years shut away like a loony can't be good for a man. Anyways, slight KakaObi, 'cause it's just so true._

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**P l e a s e**

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"This is wrong."

"No." Kakashi leaned in again, cradled Obito's face in his hands, pressed his lips against his. Pulling back, he stared into Obito's eyes deeply, as if trying to convey some secret meaning through them. "No, it's not."

"Yes, it is." Obito tried to push him off, but his arms couldn't find the strength. "You're sick." You don't really love me, you just think you do. It's not true.

Not true.

So much of their relationship was not true. Every time Kakashi gave him that _look_ it was only a carbon copy, a fake thing that in his twisted little mind meant something.

Not true.

"I'm not sick." Kakashi shook his head, and his deep grey eyes took on a glassy look, then, like a shallow puddle on the pavement. "No, I'm not. You believe me, don't you? I wouldn't lie to you, Obito."

"It's not a matter of lying, Kakashi." Obito finally managed to get out from under the man and stood, pushed himself off of the small bed. And then, for good measure, he repeated himself. "You're sick."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Kakashi's voice was turning hysterical now, Obito hated when this happened. This was when Kakashi cried, this was when Kakashi begged, this was when Kakashi truly fell to the madness. "I'm not sick, I'm not sick Obito. You believe me."

Obito didn't know why Kakashi kept saying that, 'you believe me'. He didn't believe him, he never had. There was no reason to.

Kakashi was sick.

"You just need help Kakashi." Obito said carefully, imploring the silver-haired schizophrenic to believe him, as if firm and repetitive expression would help. "You don't really love me. None of this is real. You're nineteen, Kakashi, and when we were thirteen a group of Iwa-nin captured you for eight days, and they made you believe things that weren't true-"

"But it is true!" Kakashi shouted. Obito flinched. Kakashi's voice was scary when he shouted, loud and raw and desperate like a dying man. "Obito, I've seen so many years with our eyes, anything's possible Obito, please, I just want a second chance Obito. Please."

Obito hated how Kakashi kept saying his name, like that of an old friend, as if he actually knew him.

"There's no such thing." Obito said sternly, gaining confidence the closer to the door he got. Only four feet, now. Another minute or two, if he was to do it without Kakashi noticing. It was always a pain when he did, he'd get this terrible betrayed look Obito saw when he tried to go to sleep.

"How do you know?" Kakashi pushed on, he was almost off the bed, his fingers clutching the stringy mattress, his shoulders shaking. "How do you know Obito?"

"Don't say that."

Kakashi paused for perhaps the first time this whole night, as if in thought. "What?"

"Don't say my name."

Kakashi narrowed his eyes, although creeping its way into the glass was a cool terror, as if he understood and the very thought chilled him to the bone. "Obito, please-"

"Don't!"

Obito moved then, and only shinobi training kept him from getting hit by Kakashi, the man had shot from bed, and as Obito slipped through the door and slammed it shut he heard Kakashi's fists hit the wood.

"Obito! You always were stupid, you little ignorant scum-"

Obito breathed deeply, held the door shut, and as always the angry insults began to melt to the quick, shallow whimpers of a grown man sobbing.

"Obito, please, I can't take this anymore. No one believes me, no one, you've gotta trust me Obito. I've done so many bad things, I'm a killer, I deserve everything but please, _please_."

And as the noise quieted to silence but for the occasional hiccup or moan Obito let go of the door handle and backed away with a jerk, as though a moment too long by that man would burn him.

Obito walked out of the psych ward quickly, silently, shoulders tight and eyes narrowed and heart beating too fast.

Maybe it already had.


End file.
